


Red Dahlia

by tangerinabina_de_archanea



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Dorothea plays matchmaker, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Getting Together, Hanahaki Disease, Multi, Pining, Post-Timeskip | War Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), not the fatal kind, this is more the seasonal variant of hanahaki
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-24
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:15:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28290762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tangerinabina_de_archanea/pseuds/tangerinabina_de_archanea
Summary: Dorothea Arnault is in love, but really, that isn’t very important when there’s a war going on.When spring comes, the flowers bloom, both in the ground and in the lungs. Fortunately, Dorothea knows how to keep it hidden. Edelgard and Hubert? Not so much.Written for the Fire Emblem Christmas Rarepair Exchange 2020.
Relationships: Dorothea Arnault/Edelgard von Hresvelg, Dorothea Arnault/Edelgard von Hresvelg/Hubert von Vestra, Dorothea Arnault/Hubert von Vestra, Edelgard von Hresvelg/Hubert von Vestra
Comments: 2
Kudos: 17
Collections: Fire Emblem Christmas Rare Pair Exchange 2020





	Red Dahlia

**Author's Note:**

  * For [soulioli](https://archiveofourown.org/users/soulioli/gifts).



> Title is taken from Red Dahlia by Mili, even if the song itself is considerably angstier than the fic sdjlfjsdf but it fits the pining well! (and besides, it's a beautiful song)  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=v-zLO_cwijs
> 
> This version of hanahaki is different than the standard, and also inspired by this post here:  
> https://tangerinabina-de-archanea.tumblr.com/post/638402224843816960#notes  
> The way it works in this au is that it's a seasonal, chronic thing until you admit your feelings to whoever you love (it's not necessary for them to reciprocate, you just have to admit your feelings). So come spring, if you're in love and still won't admit it, you're gonna be coughing flowers for a couple months until summer finally rolls around!

It’s a simple trick that Dorothea knows; one that Manuela taught her long ago, for even in the tragedies when young women die of flowers choking the lungs around their broken hearts, it simply won’t do to sing with flowers in your throat. In real life, it’s more of a mild seasonal irritation than anything fatal, but the petals are still troublesome enough to be a concern when it comes to singing. 

The trick is tea.

The blend she brews and drinks each morning is bitter, but even if the taste leaves something to be desired, the effect is marvelous, and Dorothea won’t be troubled by any rose petals until well into the evening, when she brews another cup.

Two cups of tea, one in the morning, one in the evening, and one can almost pretend they don’t have any feelings at all. It’s a useful trick that she’s passed on to many people, with none the wiser that she herself is currently afflicted.

Dorothea Arnault is in love, but really, that isn’t very important when there’s a war going on.

She knows what it is about Edelgard that draws her towards her like a moth to flame. Her confidence, her courage, her strength, the way that she blushes when Dorothea sings about her… Edelgard is easy to understand, in some ways, and yet in others she is not, for loving her means Dorothea is setting herself up for heartbreak. The Emperor will let politics determine her future marriage, not her heart; of this Dorothea is certain, and so she drinks her tea and pretends she doesn’t feel the urge to cough whenever Edelgard is close to her in the spring when the flowers blossom. 

Hubert is a mystery. Perhaps it is his utter dedication to Edelgard that attracts her so, or perhaps it is on a superficial level, for he is quite handsome in his own way, or maybe it is simply curiosity, because Hubert von Vestra is nothing if not an enigma. He has a heart, she knows, even if he denies it, and she so desperately wants to know its inner workings, but perhaps not so desperately as she simply wants him to admit his feelings for Edelgard. 

That is another roadblock, too; Edelgard and Hubert are in love, she is sure, with only room for each other in their hearts, but there’s a war going on, and neither of them are willing to make the first move. 

Or perhaps they are, if only given a push.

* * *

When Edelgard comes to Dorothea, the sun is slowly sinking beneath the horizon, hidden as well as a child playing hide-and-go-seek standing behind a tree and shouting “you can’t see me!”, and the clouds are scraping across the purplish-pink sky, cutting away the lighter bits to reveal rich, dark cloth filled with stars.

Dorothea drums her fingers on the table as Edelgard tells her of her plight, a handkerchief clutched in her hand and cherry blossom petals spilling out between her teeth. She goes on and on about how inconvenient it is during war meetings, during battle—any time, really—all of which Dorothea listens to attentively and nods along, but her attention is still captured more by Edelgard’s beautiful lips and the clean and crisp way they fit around each word she speaks. 

“I’ve heard that you have something that can help this…” She spends a moment searching for the right word. Edelgard has always been careful with her words. “...affliction.”

“I do.” She leans back in her chair, sipping the very tea that Edelgard was questioning her about. “You know the only thing that will truly help end this is telling the object of your affections how you feel.”

Edelgard flushes pink at that, and her eyes avoid Dorothea’s inquisitive stare. “I am well aware of that, but now is not the time.” _There’s a war going on_ , is the unspoken implication.

“I understand.” She delicately sets her teacup down on its saucer with a short clink, then slides it across the table. “Drink this, Edie. You’ll feel right as rain in no time.”

“Tea? It’s tea?” Edelgard looks shocked for a moment, then raises the cup to her lips to smell it. “It smells terrible… is this truly what you use?”

“It is. You’ll get used to the taste.”

With as dignified an expression as she possibly can, Edelgard drinks, her lips meeting the same edge of the cup that Dorothea’s were touching earlier. It means nothing and yet everything at the same time. “Gracious.” She coughs a little, a pale pink petal floating down from her lips and gracing the cup’s rim. “How much do I have to drink?”

“Just a little more, and you’ll be right as rain.”

“Very well.” When she’s done, she slides the cup back to Dorothea, the petal falling to the saucer along the way. “Where can I get more of this?” 

“Ask Manuela. She’ll be sure to give you some.”

“I see.” Slowly, she rises from the table. “Thank you for your help, Dorothea.”

“You’re welcome.” Thoughtfully, she runs her finger along the rim of the teacup. “You know, if you simply told Hubert how you felt, you wouldn’t even need to go see Manuela.”

The way that Edelgard immediately turns as crimson as her dress tells Dorothea all that she needs to know, as does the way she splutters out a half-hearted protest that does more to confirm than deny.

It also reminds her that the single pink petal on the saucer isn’t for her. 

* * *

When Hubert tells Dorothea to meet with him, she assumes she’s in trouble; after all, why else would Hubert ask? She finds him in the appointed place that night, waiting for her just out of the moon’s reach near the ruined cathedral.

“So, Hubie, what did I do?” 

“What did you-?” His voice bends under the weight of his irritation and confusion before snapping back upright. “You are only partially responsible for my troubles as of late.”

“Partially?” she laughs, raising one fine eyebrow. “And how is that?”

“ _That_ is not what we are here to discuss. Loathe as I am to admit it, I need a favor from you.”

She allows him to set aside the first topic for now, her interest piqued. “A favor, huh? Perhaps delivering a love letter to Edie-”

“Nothing of the sort,” he hisses, “but do not mention this to her.”

“Hm.” She paces back and forth in front of him, as if she needs time to consider it, but in truth, she just enjoys toying with him, much like a cat with its prey. He’s so deliciously easy to tease. “Alright. What can I do for you, Hubie?” 

“I hear that you possess the remedy for a… certain ailment.”

“And which one might that be?”

“Don’t be coy.” His words are harsh, but there’s an unmistakable hint of… amusement, perhaps? behind them. On one hand, he seems rather impatient to get this done, but on the other, it seems like he’s enjoying their little game.

“I can’t possibly know what you’re talking about unless you tell me, dear.”

If he flushes at the pet name, the darkness hides it from her. “The flowers, if you really must force me to say it.”

“So you _are_ in love,” she grins, quite pleased at this admittance. “I knew it. All that talk about not being in love with Edelgard… you’ve been denying your feelings, even to yourself, and now that spring rolls around… well, you just can’t hide it, can you?”

“Must I remind you that this is to be kept to yourself?”

“Of course, Hubie. Your secret is safe with me. Although… It really would be simpler just to tell her. I don’t think that Edie would appreciate you hiding this from her for so long.”

He crosses his arms, moonlight catching on his pale gloves and the petals of white chrysanthemums drifting in the air between them as he barely restrains a cough. “She is rather curious about the things I keep from her. On the other hand, we have much more important matters to deal with.”

_Haven’t you heard there’s a war going on, Dorothea?_

But maybe… maybe that’s all the more reason to be bold. 

“You could be dead tomorrow. We all could be. Isn’t that all the more reason to tell her?”

To her surprise, Hubert smiles. It’s subtle, like a crack growing inch by creeping inch in a cliff’s face, but it’s unmistakably there. “Perhaps you do have a point. Regardless, you still have not answered my question. Where may I find the tea blend you use?”

Pressing him further will be useless, Dorothea knows, and so she relents. “Ask Manuela. She’ll give you what you want.”

“Thank you.” With that, he is gone, vanishing into the night like a shadow from the sun.

She runs through their conversation again and again in her mind, grinning as she does. It’s funny, how stubborn Hubert is, when his feelings toward Edelgard couldn’t be more blatantly obvious. He’s not the type to easily conceal that sort of thing- 

_“You are only partially responsible for my troubles as of late.”_

“Partially responsible, huh?” she murmurs to herself, feeling hope blossom in her heart for the first time in a long time. 

* * *

It surprises Dorothea, weeks later, to see the cherry blossom petal clinging to Edelgard’s lip; what could have possibly gone wrong?

It’s not because of Hubert, she knows; they’ve already, finally, admitted to each other, if their clasped hands in the tea gardens have anything to say about it. It shouldn’t be because of the tea, either, unless there was a bad batch, but she shouldn’t need the tea by now. Unless…

Dorothea sees only two options before her: either Edelgard isn’t in love with Hubert (which she’s utterly certain can’t be the case), or Edelgard still has another that she has yet to admit her feelings to. 

Dorothea feels ready to test her luck, but still uncertainty creeps in, an unwelcome friend who long ago stole the key to her heart, and so she stays quiet, and drinks two cups of tea a day.

* * *

It’s on a lovely day, when spring is barely able to bar the door against the heat of summer, that Edelgard calls her to the garden for tea at midday.

Dorothea is both surprised and not to see Hubert there; he follows Edelgard closely enough that he may as well be her shadow, and yet she has never seen him attend tea with her and another person before. 

“Dorothea, welcome,” Edelgard greets her warmly, gesturing for her to sit. “I apologize for the short notice.”

“It’s no trouble at all, Edie. You know I’m always delighted to see you. And Hubie, as well.” She takes her seat gracefully, arranging herself in the same practiced manner that she always does. “Was there any particular reason that you called me here?”

“There was,” Hubert nods. “There is a matter of great importance that we must discuss with you. After all, as you reminded me, we could all be dead tomorrow, and some things should not go left unsaid.”

* * *

The pure white tablecloth is covered in a marvelous display of flower petals by the time they’ve finished, of white chrysanthemums and pink cherry blossoms and red roses, lit warmly by the golden sky above. Dorothea is warm, too; how could she not be, in the embrace of the two people she loves the most in the world?

Charming, they called her, and strong and admirable and lovely and baffling—that one was one of Hubert’s—but all the compliments paled in comparison to when they said “we love you” and Dorothea coughed and coughed roses before she could voice her affections in turn. And then the kisses, oh the kisses; if she’d had all the time in the world to waste, she would have spent it on kissing them.

For the first time in many springs, Dorothea’s lungs are clear and full of naught but air.

“I love you,” she tells them, for what feels like the hundredth time that day, yet still feeling the thrill of words she never thought she’d be able to utter, and the delightful warmth of Hubert’s chuckle in his chest, and Edelgard’s cheek resting upon her shoulder. 

There’s a war going on, so she’ll indulge herself a bit, for who knows what could happen the next day?

And so she says it again, and again, and again, with kisses between each one, and murmured reciprocations as the sun begins to sink beneath the horizon. 


End file.
